


Distraction

by collectingstories



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Reader is not dazzled by Steve Rogers, Steve attempts flirting, special ops team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 12:24:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17203358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collectingstories/pseuds/collectingstories
Summary: Based on this prompt from Tumblr: Can you write something with with reader x Steve where the reader is an intimidating secretive agent from some secret task force that the avengers need help from? And throughout the whole thing the reader is so serious and Steve  is trying to be friendly but keeps being put to the side and when it’s all over it’s like the reader flips a switch and they get to know each other? :-)





	Distraction

There were about eight different voices going off in your ear. You sat at the base of a digital mountain, computer screens lined the wall and the long desk was covered in equipment. The room was dominated by this mass of technology, only allowing enough extra space for yourself, the rolling chair you were sitting in and one other seat, which was occupied as well. By a super-solider that was adding an extra voice to the constant noise in your ears.

He’d been laid up by an injury he sustained last night. Having only this small room in the office across from the building they were trying to infiltrate they had brought him here. He had bled all over the floor while being bandaged and now he sat in a folding chair beside you, almost healed, with the bottom half of his uniform still on and his helmet sitting in the corner keeping his shield company. 

And he was talking. A lot. 

“So this system, it can pick up every floor of the building simultaneously? Video and sound and everything?” He asked, fiddling with a keyboard near him.

“Please don’t touch anything.” You reached over and grabbed his wrist. “It’s all very sensitive.”

You were used to working alone. And even when you didn’t work alone the person working with you was working, not taking a breath because they had sustained ten stab wounds to the abdomen. You were contemplating getting a sign for the door, something along the lines of ‘no talking beyond this point’ because it was difficult to concentrate on the four remaining agents inside the building while Captain America himself was talking your ear off. 

“How long have you been doing this? Not this specifically, but the job? How long have you been on the job?” He asked. 

Sometimes it felt like decades that he’d been out of the ice but times like this made him feel like he’d been thawed out only yesterday. He and computers had come a long way but not enough that he could even begin to understand what it was you were doing as you typed away on your computer. He could hear his teammates voices coming through your headset in tiny whispers, overlapping each other as they gave out commands. 

“Second floor, 20 paces down, right side.” You instructed, glancing at one of the screens. You didn’t answer the question Steve had directed your way.

“I definitely could’ve used all this back in the day. That was all guess work.” He began, diving into a story you were sure he had told more than once. And if he hadn’t told it than some 90-year-old at the VA had relayed it in his honor. Or Gary Sinise had read it off a cue card for the Smithsonian. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk to him, or didn’t want to hear the story he was telling it was just that you couldn’t afford to. If you wanted to get this mission with everyone alive then you needed to stay focused on this task, not the super solider sitting beside you.

When he’d first been brought in you had nearly started shouting at other members of his team. This was not a medical facility it was a tiny room the size of a closet with equipment that was worth millions. And you didn’t want America’s hero bleeding out on it. Well, you didn’t want him to bleed out at all. 

“Captain Rogers-”

“Steve, please.” He interrupted.

“Steve,” you repeated. “I’m gonna need you to stop talking until your teammates are safely out of that building. Is that possible, maybe?”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, shifting his chair away from you a bit “yeah of course.”

“There’s a headset right there, if you want to communicate with them.” You pointed out, reaching passed him to grab the spare headset that was resting beside a keyboard. 

The rest of the mission went the way it was supposed to, aside from the super-solider that was only slightly distracting. By the end you were almost thankful for his presence. He’d taken over the role of leader, giving commands through the headset and leaving you to do the easier work of maneuvering cameras and disarming any security systems in place. 

When the mission was over Steve, who was mostly healed, left the room with just a thank you. He didn’t say anything else. Just placed a hand on your shoulder, one you really wanted to lean your head against, and then left. Then you were left alone in the small closet room to breakdown all the equipment yourself. Once you were out of tactical mode, when the mission at hand wasn’t the only thing that occupied your mind, you considered that you’d been a little hard on Steve. Well, not entirely. You did need to focus and he was extremely distracting, but that wasn’t his fault and outside of a mission you wouldn’t hate sitting next to him and hearing him relay old war stories that had been told a million times. 

So you made a surprise visit to the Tower. You considered going with the excuse that you were just checking up on him to be sure that he was alright but seeing as the serum had his metabolism working in overdrive that was a shitty excuse. He had been nearly healed by the end of the mission. There was no way he wasn’t fully recovered by now. Instead you decided that your excuse would just be that you wanted to see him, because that was true. Not to mention, you went on deadly missions every day, how hard could talking to a guy be. 

You found him exactly where you were told you would, in the kitchen getting himself some lunch. 

“Did you know the VA hospital three blocks over has the best chicken salad sandwiches in the world?” You said, leaning against the island in the middle of the kitchen. 

Steve turned around, a look of surprise on his face. He was shocked both to see you standing in his kitchen and to have you sounding so friendly. You had been stoic during the mission, that was the word he had used to describe you when Sam asked. 

“No I…I don’t think I’ve been in their cafeteria.” Steve replied, his words catching in his mouth as he tried to speak.

“I always stop in when I’m visiting my granddad.” You replied. It was probably selfish of you to have an ulterior motive as shallow as lunch but your granddad was always in a terrible mood and you need some sort of incentive to visit him twice a week. 

“Well it’s not hospital chicken salad but you’re welcome to share some turkey and cheese?” Steve offered, passing the plate across the island. Half a sandwich, looking fairly lackluster, sat on a paper plate. 

“How about I treat you to lunch somewhere not in this place?” You asked, looking around the kitchen. You couldn’t remember the story he’d been telling you in the computer room but you were kind of dying to hear him tell it again. Simply because you wouldn’t mind wasting a whole afternoon on him. 

Steve looked down at the sandwich he’d made for himself, the thought of going out somewhere enticing. The thought of going out somewhere with you even more so. “Alright. But I’ll pay for mine.” He stopped himself before he could say something dumb about a lady paying for lunch because he was sure you would snap at him for it. If not you than certainly Natasha later on when she inevitably found out he’d gone out with someone. 

“Then I’m not treating you am I?” You laughed. 

“I guess not.” Steve sent you a rather sheepish grin. 

“Alright we’ll go Dutch this time.” You began to back out of the kitchen, waving for him to follow you. “So anyway, what was that story you were telling me? About how you wished you had surveillance 'back in the day’?” You asked.

Steve stepped into the elevator beside you. “I don’t want to bore you with that story again.”

“I was a bit distracted the other day, trust me, you run no risk of boring me.” 

He hit the button for the ground level as he restarted the story about a rescue mission in the 1940’s. You leaned back against the wall of the elevator, eyes focused on his face, and listened to him in complete fascination. Nothing was going to pull you away from this moment.


End file.
